The Heart Of Christmas
by autismmom31910
Summary: Set in 1964. Micky, Peter, and Mike are a struggling trio, just trying to survive on a shoestring budget. They'r lack of funds also causes a lack of Christmas Spirit, until a young, homeless boy far from home shows them how fortunate they really are.
1. Chapter 1

**author's note * This is a fic I wrote back in 2004, and happened to come across it the other day* I submit for your approval, "The Heart Of Christmas".**

It was the week before Christmas, 1964. Peter was in the kitchen, fixing his infamous Cream of Root Beet soup. Micky was upstairs tinkering with one of his inventions. Peter gave his soup one final stir and smiled in satisfaction.

"Done," he said, "hey guys! Soup's on! Micky? Mike?" Peter decided to head upstairs and tell his room mates that their supper was ready. In the meantime, someone slips into the balcony door. He takes the soup, blows on it, and slurps it down greedily. He then places the pan on the stove and slips out again quickly, so as not to get caught.

Peter and Micky come down the stairs and head to the kitchen.

"Cream of Root Beer again?" Micky asked in disgust.

"I don't know how to fix Cream of Water," Peter replied. Micky took one look in the pan and shouted in disbelief.

"Hey, what gives? There's no soup in here," Micky stated as he turned the pan upside down to show his friend the proof.

"It's gone! What could have happened?" Peter cried, as tears began to fall down his face.

"Oh come on Peter, it's ok. I didn't like Cream of Root Beer much anyway," Micky said, placing a hand on his friend's back. About that time, Mike comes walking through the front door.

"Uh oh, what's wrong, Pete ol' buddy?" Mike asked as he saw his friend wiping his eyes.

"Aw, something came into the house and ate Pete's Cream of Root Beer soup," Micky explained.

"Whoever did must be crying too by now." Mike said. "Do you know who or what it was?"

"No, I went upstairs to get Micky. Then when we came down here, the soup was gone," Peter said, crying again.

"Oh it's alright, don't cry. Besides, I have good news," Mike said.

"You got us a job!" Micky said with excitement.

"No, that would be great news. Anyway, I went over to Saint Mary's today and signed us up for their annual Christmas dinner," Mike said.

"Yum! I can taste that pineapple glazed ham already," Micky said while patting his stomach as his mouth watered.

"That is good news," Peter said, "now, when are we getting a Christmas tree?"

"Well Pete, we just can't afford it this year," Mike said painfully. He hated disappointing his friends. As it was they had already discussed earlier that week that no one should get the others a gift, due to their very tight budget.

"Aw man, what a drag. No tree, no presents," Micky said, looking like he was about to cry.

"I wish I could do something, but the rent is overdue and the heat has been shut off," Mike said. "You know, my mom use to say"Michael, Christmas isn't about trees and lights, presents and mistletoe. It's about the baby born long, long ago."

"Baby New Year?" Micky asked.

"No, baby Jesus! Baby New Year! Whadda ya say baby new year for?" Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"At least baby Jesus got presents," Peter said glumly as he headed to his room.

"Yeah, let's just skip Christmas all together this year," Micky said as he went to his room.

Mike was left downstairs all alone. He sure felt crummy. He really wished he could make the place at least look a little Christmasy. All of a sudden, he had an idea. His friends sure would be surprised this year.


	2. Chapter 2

***So, I'm sorry this chapter is coming after Christmas, but I have been crazy busy with work, family, and the holidays. I hope you will enjoy this anyway, and I plan on doing the next chapter soon.***

Over the next couple of days, Peter and Micky remained in a sour mood. They were no longer mad at Mike, just disappointed that Christmas wasn't going to feel too much like Christmas that year. It didn't help matters that none of them could afford to go home for the holidays either. Not only this, but something else was bothering them. Food was disappearing left and right, and nobody could figure out who or what was taking it. Peter had mentioned also that he had heard noises outside like something was rustling in the garbage. One day, Mike, Micky, and Peter had a discussion about it.

"Hey Micky, did you eat all of that Butter Rum cake that Mrs. Weefer's brought over?" Mike asked, looking in the nearly bare refrigerator.

"No, I haven't even had any yet, I swear," Micky answered.

"Peter, did you have to eat all of the cake?" Mike asked.

"I didn't have any. Besides, I went to the library right after she came over with it," Peter said, providing an alibi.

"Well, if you didn't eat it, I didn't eat it, and Micky didn't eat it, that means we've got a thief," Mike surmised.

"Maybe it was a mouse," Peter said.

"Oh Peter, a mouse can't eat a whole cake," Mike said with a roll of his eyes.

"Maybe a dog or cat then. I have been hearing noises outside for the past two nights," Peter said.

"Well, that would make sense, except for the fact that dogs and cats can't open refrigerator doors. There also would have been garbage scattered everywhere," Mike told him.

"So you're saying it's a person?" Micky asked.

"Yup, and I hope we can catch him or her pretty soon. We're not running a concession stand you know," Mike said.

That night, when the Monkees went to bed, Peter had a hard time getting to sleep. He was scared now that he knew a stranger had probably been lurking around the pad these past few nights. It was much more comforting to think a cat or dog was out there. Suddenly, Peter heard the noises, the rustle of the trash can, the crumple of paper. Peter's heart leaped into his throat. He instinctively pulled the covers up over his head. Suddenly, as he lay there quivering, he began to have a brilliant idea. He realized, if he hurried, he could be the one to catch this "thief" and save the others. Of course, all he needed now was the courage to do so.

So he took a deep breath, threw off the covers, and reached for his robe and slippers. He quietly tiptoed over to the balcony, and there is where Peter saw "it's" shadow. His heart pounded wildly again. He grabbed an iron skillet out of the cabinet and a flashlight out of the utility drawer and cautiously made his was outside. Once outside, he flipped on the flashlight and screamed at the sight before him.

"Hello mate. I didn't mean to startle ya, " the young man said in a British accent. The poor boy was filthy from head to toe. He had on raggedy old clothes that looked like they hadn't been changed in weeks. His coat was thin and his gloves were worn. The sight of him made Peter sad.

"Me name is David Jones," the boy said, sticking out his hand.

...

In the meantime, Mike and Micky had been sleeping upstairs when Peter's scream had waken them.

"What in the world was that?" Micky asked.

"I dunno, but it sounds like Peter may be in trouble." Mike said, "Stick close to me. I'll grab the bat, and you grab the vase."

"Gotcha!" Micky said, as he grabbed the flower vase and followed closely behind Mike.

Once they had gotten downstairs, Mike flipped on the lights. There he saw the stranger sitting at their kitchen table, munching on a jelly sandwich and drinking a glass of milk. Peter had come out of the his room with a blanket and wrapped it around the young visitors shoulders. As they neared their visitor, the stench of Davy was almost overwhelming. Mike had to sit down so he wouldn't pass out, and Micky became sick to his stomach.

"Peter, what on Earth are you doing?" Mike asked in disbelief.

"Hey Mike, this is David Jones. He's new to California. Well, actually he's new to the United States too. He's from England," Peter explained.

"Pleased ta meet ya," Davy said with a mouthful of sandwich and sticking his hand out.

"What were you doing on our balcony?" Mike asked.

"I'm sorry for causing ya any trouble sir. I had no where to go. I came here to California to become a singing star. I thought, if the Beatles can to it, so can I. I was robbed of everything except the clothes on me back the day I arrived here," Davy said timidly, almost as if he were afraid of Mike.

"Aw, that's ok. You just scared us," Mike said.

"Hey David, this is Mike Nesmith, and that guy over there is Micky Dolenz," Peter said, pointing to his friends.

"Pleased ta meet ya," Davy said, going over to Micky and sticking his hand out. The smell was more than Micky could handle. He quickly shook Davy's hand, then said, "excuse me". Micky bolted into the bathroom, slammed the door, and all that could be heard was "blaaaaaah!"

"Is he ok?" Davy asked, pointing to the door.

"He's fine," Mike said, "look David-"

"Oh please, call me Davy," Davy said.

"Look Davy, I've got a grand idea. Why don't we let you take a shower. You can borrow some of Micky's clothes and then you can spend the night. We've got a cot you can set up in Peter's room," Mike suggested.

"Ok," Davy said.

"Hey, why will he be wearing my clothes?" Micky asked as he returned from the bathroom.

"Well because me and Peter's clothes would be way too big for him," Mike explained, "now be nice." So reluctantly, Micky went upstairs and came back down with a pair of pajamas, socks, and even a pair of underwear. Davy thanked him and headed for the bathroom.

As he showered, the other guys began to have a discussion.

"Poor fella. I kind of know how he feels. I hardly had any money at all when I first moved to California," Mike said.

"Yeah, me either," Peter said.

"Can he stay here?" Micky asked.

"I suppose. At least until after Christmas."

"Hey Mike, remember that movie we saw last night?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, what about it?" Mike asked in return.

"Well, when Jacob Marley told Ebenezer Scrooge that mankind was their business, do you suppose that could be true?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, what are you driving at?" Mike questioned.

"Well, maybe Davy could stay with us indefinitely. I mean, you know we're not working out so good as a trio. It's like something is missing. Listen to that singing, Mike," Peter said, pointing toward the bathroom.

"Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far away," came floating from beyond the bathroom door.

"Hey, he sounds really good," Micky said, shaking his head in approval.

"Not only that, he's a dancer too. Plus, he plays tambourine, maracas, and a little guitar," Peter added.

"Well, maybe we can audition him after the holidays," Mike stated.

"Yes!" Micky and Peter proclaimed in their victory. Soon Davy came out of the bathroom, looking much different than he did before. Of course, Micky's clothes were still way too big on him though.

"Whoowee! You cleaned up nice! If he sticks around here too long, he's going to steal your girlfriends, Mick," Mike replied.

"You sing well too," Micky commented.

"Thanks. I didn't mean for ya to hear that," Davy said shyly.

"Maybe you could jam with us sometime," Peter said.

"That would be great. I've heard you guys playing while I was out there beside the window. You're good, but it sounds like something is missing."

"Yes, we know," Mike said dryly.


	3. Chapter 3

In the next couple of days before Christmas, Davy became just like a member of the group. He did jam with them and Mike was very impressed with his sound. Micky and Peter even seemed to be in a better mood now.

"Hey Mike," Peter said.

"Yeah Pete," Mike said, turning away from his newspaper.

"Ever since Davy's been here, I've been thinking about how fortunate we are. At least we have a roof over our heads. I'm sorry for blasting you a few days ago about a Christmas tree. It's just... you know... my first Christmas away from home, and I was just hoping this Christmas would be a little more festive," Peter said with his head down.

"I know what you mean Pete, and I forgive you," Mike said as he slapped his buddy on the back.

"Hey man, I'm sorry too," Micky said as he entered the living room.

"Aw, that's ok. We don't have much, but at least we have our friendship," Mike said, putting an arm around each of his friends.

...

Christmas Eve came, and Davy and Mike had been gone most of the day, but Peter and Micky had no idea where they went.

"Hey Pete, where's Mike at?" Micky asked.

"I have no idea. He just said he had errands to run. Have you seen Davy?" Peter asked Micky.

"Yeah, he left here in his old rags. I hope he hasn't decided to leave," Micky said.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, I've got some stuff to do in my room," Peter said.

"Yeah, me too. Talk to you later Pete," Micky said. So both of them went to their rooms.

...

Later that afternoon, Micky, Peter, and Davy were getting ready to go to the Christmas dinner at Saint Mary's. They met in the living room, laughing and talking. That's when they found Mike laying on the couch.

"Hey Mike, it's time to go to dinner," Micky said.

"Oh, you guys go ahead. I'm not feeling too well," Mike said weakly.

"Are you sure?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, go have a good time. See ya later," Mike said, laying his head back on the couch.

"Ok mate, we'll bring ya back a plate of food if we can," Davy said.

Good bye, Mike," the three of them said in unison.

"Bye," Mike said. As soon as the door shut. Mike sat up. He waited a minute or two until he knew the guys were really gone. Then he got up quickly. He sure had alot of work to do.

...

A couple of hours later. Micky, Peter, and Davy came home very full and very happy. They came through the door singing Christmas carols, but suddenly stopped when they saw the sight before them. In the corner of the bandstand was a Christmas tree complete with lights, ornaments, tinsel, and a beautiful star on top of it. A white sheet had been draped around the bottom of the tree. A few small presents were set around it and there was a manger scene out in front. On the kitchen table was a bowl of punch and a plate of cookies. There were also some candles on the table.

"Merry Christmas guys!" Mike yelled with a smile.

"What the... how? Why?" Was Micky's response. Peter and Davy were absolutely speechless.

"Come on, let's open these gift," Mike said.

...

As they dug into their presents, Mike's gifts came first. For Davy was a couple of shirts, a couple pairs of pants, a pack of socks, and a pack of underwear. For Micky, a new set of drum sticks. For Peter, a new guitar strap.

"Gee, thanks for the clothes Mike," Davy said, trying on one of his new shirts.

"Yes, this guitar strap is beautiful," Peter exclaimed.

"Gee, these are groovy," Micky said as he examined his new drum sticks. "I just wish I knew how you did it. I mean the presents, the tree, and everything."

"I think I know how he did it Micky," Peter said, drawing Micky's attention to the center of the bandstand. The both noticed Mike's guitar was missing.

"Oh please tell me you didn't do what I think you did," Micky said, feeling quite guilty for the comments he had made to Mike at the beginning of the week.

"Ok, I didn't," Mike said with a smile. Micky knew he was lying, of course.

"Man, you shouldn't have pawned your guitar. You really didn't have to do all of this," Micky said as he hugged Mike.

"I know that,' Mike replied.

"You loved that guitar, Michael," Peter replied.

"Yes I did, but not as much as my friends. Besides, I can used the old beat up guitar I brought with me when I came here until I can save up for a nicer one," Mike reassured him.

"I want to give my presents next," Peter yelled as he ran to his room. He came back with three strings of beads.

"Merry Christmas guys," Peter said as he place a string of love beads around each guy's neck.

"These are really swell. Did you make these?" Micky asked.

"Yup," Peter replied.

"Why thank you Peter," Mike said, admiring his beads.

"I've never had a hand made gift before," Davy said.

"I call them friendship beads. This makes us friends forever," Peter told them.

"Me next!" Micky shouted.

"Not yet, I have one extra gift for Davy," Peter announced. He handed Davy a package that was wrapped in old newspaper. Davy quickly unwrapped the gift.

"Oh Petah!" He gasped in surprise.

"Peter, that's your teddy bear. Are you really willing to part with him?" Mike asked.

"Davy needs him more than I do. He's had a really rough time," Peter told Mike.

"Thank you Petah. I'll always cherish him," Davy said, giving Peter a hug.

"Ok, now it's my turn," Micky said. He ran up the stairs and then quidkly came sliding down the banister with a bag in his hand. He had made some wooden items from scrap lumber that a nearby construction site said he could have.

"Thank you Micky," Mike said, a little puzzled as he looked at his gift.

"It's a box to put your guitar picks in, see?" Micky said, demonstrating the box's purpose.

"Thank you for the flower box. Now I can plant something this Spring," Peter said.

"You're welcome Pete," Micky replied with a smile.

"Hey, thanks for the gift," Davy said. He opened a cigar box that contained a comb, a hairbrush, and a razor.

"Sorry for the strange gift. I didn't know what to make for you," Micky apologized.

"That's alright. I like it," Davy said, "Ok, I have gifts for all of you as well." Davy went into the room he and Peter were sharing and brought out three gifts wrapped in brown butcher's paper. The guys were shocked. Thy knew Davy didn't have any money.

"Before we open these, promise us these aren't stolen," Mike said with concern.

"No, I earned the money for them. I was singing on a street corner today. I earned five dollars, and I would have gotten more if a cop hadn't run me off. I think he would have arrested me, but I think he felt sorry for me in me old rags," Davy explained.

Peter opened his first. It was a cross-stitched sign that read "Money is the root of all evil"

"Thank you Davy. I think I'll hang it out here where everyone can enjoy it," Peter said.

Micky was next. Davy had gotten him a pair of sunglasses. Micky put them on and did an impersonation of James Cagney.

"You dirty rat! You're the rat that killed my brotha'!" Micky said as everyone laughed. "Thanks Davy."

Mike opened his last. It was an olive green wool hat.

"Thanks Davy," Mike said, placing the hat on his head.

"That'll keep your head warm," Davy said.

"Hey Mike, that looks good on you," Micky commented.

"Sure does," Mike replied as he looked in the mirror. He then turned to Davy.

"Davy, we've got one more thing for ya. It's from all of us."

"Wow!" Davy exclaimed.

"How would you like to live with us permanently and be in our band?" Mike asked.

"You must be joking! Really, you want me here?" Davy asked in shock.

"You're a Monkee through and through," Micky said.

"You're the something that was missing in our sound. The four of us sound great together," Peter said.

"Yep shotgun, this is no joke. How about it?" Mike asked. They all stood there earnestly waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I would love to be a member of your group," Davy replied. All the Monkees cheered, as the shook Davy's hand and slapped him on the back.

...

So that's the story of how the Monkees went from a trio to a quartet Sometimes the four men had their ups and downs... hard times and good times. Sometimes they even squabbled over girls or the last slice of bread in the cupboard. Through it all they stayed the best of friends and none of them forgot the Christmas when they learned that they were more than friends... they were family.

The End

 **Sorry it took so long to update. I know it is no longer Christmas, but I was determined to finish this story, as I hate to leave unfinished works.**


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